


Pills and medals

by MeElla (neverxenough)



Category: Make It or Break It
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, Gen, Out of Character, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverxenough/pseuds/MeElla
Summary: It's two years after the Olympics and Payson's life is centered around parties. When her life spirals out of control, who shows up if not Sasha with his hero complex? But Payson doesn't want his help. Contains drugs and alcohol.Previously published over at fanfiction.net
Relationships: Sasha Belov & Payson Keeler
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The music was loud, the bass made her chest vibrate and she could barely hear herself think. It was exactly the way she liked it. Out of breath, brain empty.

"A vodka tonic please." She shouted to the bartender, leaning on her elbow to come close enough so the man would hear her. The guy didn't ask her for an ID. No one ever did. She got her drink and she turned to face the dance floor. People were moving everywhere she looked.

"You wanna dance?" a guy suddenly asked, making her way closer on her right side.

She only hesitated long enough to check him out. Dark eyes, black hair, tall - he would do. She downed the drink in her hand, placed the glass on the bar and followed the guy between the moving mass of people. She let the rhythm of the music take her over, feeling the alcohol moving with her blood. Her body moved with the rest of the bodies pressed close together in the small club.

"You wanna get out of here?" the guy asked after a few dances. She was pressed up against his chest, and they were both out of breath. She nodded and once again they were walking over the dance floor.

Outside the club, they found a bench where they sat down. The guy pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held it out to her. She eyed the cigarettes; she wasn't really a big fan of them. Sure, she wouldn't say no if he didn't have anything else, but he didn't look like a guy with only tobacco cigarettes in his pocket.

"You don't have anything stronger?" She asked, smiling sweetly for him.

The guy pulled a joint from his pocket with a smile on his face. His teeth looked sharp and white, making his face look harsh but still handsome.

"That's more like it." She said, taking a deep drag as soon as he lit it. She held the smoke in her lungs, letting it burn, making her eyes water, before breathing out.

"Damn girl, that's hot." The guy said, moving closer. She took another deep drag and then the guy's lips were on hers. She returned the kiss but lacked the passion she felt coming from him. She broke free, took another deep drag before getting up. She gave the joint back to the guy who now looked shocked.

"I need to get going." She said, leaving the guy behind.

It was only midnight, so she had no desire to go home yet. Her apartment was one of the most boring places she had ever been to. She didn't spend any more time there than was absolutely necessary. So instead she steered the way toward a new club out on the pier. Even if her head felt light, she had no problem walking straight or hailing a taxi.

The pier club was much like every other club. She ordered a few drinks, took a pill from her purse and disappeared into the waves of people dancing. The music, the beat, the alcohol—it felt like heaven, or maybe it was hell. Everything was spinning, spinning, spinning.

.:.

The following morning Payson woke up in a strange bed next to a strange guy. He was sleeping next to her, snoring. Without waking him, she got up, pulled her dress on and took her shoes in one hand.

She was hungover, really badly. Walking out to catch a taxi, she noticed that the people around her were dressed for work. Fancy suits and nice skirts. It must be a weekday.

"Taxi!" she called, winching as she felt like her head would split open. Around her people watched her stumble a little as she stepped into the taxi. The judging eyes were nothing new and she gave them the finger before closing the door and giving the driver her address.

The apartment was light, so the first thing Payson did was pull down the blinds. Without getting into the shower, she took a few pills from a jar in the bathroom and headed to bed. Ignoring the ringing from her cellphone, she quickly fell into the darkness of sleep.

.:.

"Hi honey, it's mom. I just wanted to check up on you. How is work? Coming home soon? We'll talk later. Love you, bye." There was a mechanical beep. "Hi Pay, what's up? I'm in LA for a few days, call me." Even though the woman in the last message didn't leave her name, she recognized her old friend Kelly. It had been a year or so since they saw each other last. Kelly, the most broken of them, had continued for another cycle. Only for bars this time around, but she was probably going to the Olympics again. It was unbelievable that anyone would ever want to stay in the sport longer than necessary. Payson's hand found its way to her lower back on its own accord. Between the first and second lumbar vertebrae, she felt the scar from the last surgery. She was just happy she got out alive and still able to walk.

Payson stood in the shower for an hour before finally gathering the energy to leave it. Watching herself in the mirror she wasn't very surprised by what she saw. Her blond hair was long like she'd always had it. She was a bit thinner in her face than when she was still competing. Her body wasn't as strong and instead of gaining weight like most people quitting a sport, she had lost all of her muscle but had not gained any fat. So she was thin. She pulled her wet hair up in a bun and shook out two pills from the jar on the shelf. Her back was constantly bugging her these days.

.:.

After having slept away the whole day and then eating a quick dinner, Payson found herself at another club as the darkness set.

"Something strong please." She said to the bartender. "Anything." She added when all he did was to look at her. "Now please."

"Do you have an ID?" The man asked.

"Why would I need an ID?" Payson asked, leaning closer to the man. "I'm 21, can't you see it?" It was a lie. It was two years past gymnastics. She was still 20. The man didn't look convinced. "How old are you?" She asked, putting a smile on her lips. Maybe it looked forced, but probably not.

"No ID, no alcohol," the man said, turning to the next customer.

Payson felt anger rise in her. She kicked the bar, turned and left. It was LA; she didn't have to walk far to find another good club.

Her hands were almost shaking by the time she downed a drink. She ordered one more, emptying the first glass quickly before turning to study the dance floor.

"Payson?"

Payson almost jumped, hearing her name being called into her ear. She turned and saw Kelly standing there. Her old friend was dressed in an amazing black dress; her hair was short, to her shoulders, and lighter than Payson remembered it being.

"Hi," Payson said, recovering quickly and putting a smile on her lips. "Wow, long time no see!" She said. She turned to the bartender and pointed to her drink and made a sign for two. Kelly hugged her. "You look great," Payson said.

"You too." But Kelly sounded apprehensive. "Who are you here with?" She asked, looking around.

"Oh, I'm waiting for some friends," Payson said. It wasn't exactly a lie, she just didn't know those new friends yet. "They're not here yet." The bartender came with the drinks. Payson emptied the one she was holding and took the new ones. She held one out to Kelly who took it, eyed it suspiciously and didn't drink any of it. "How's training going?" Payson asked.

"Good... I'm here for sponsor work... You remember."

Payson nodded. She remembered.

"You wanna get out of here?" Kelly asked. "We could go somewhere and talk?"

"Sure," Payson said. She finished her drink and followed Kelly. She had nowhere near enough alcohol in her body to talk gymnastics, so while she was walking behind Kelly she took a couple of pills out of her bag, swallowing them dry.

They got as far as a diner before Payson faked getting a phone call and said she had to leave.

"Next time we'll go out and eat together," Payson said, waving to her friend. "Good luck at the Olympics!"

"Payson? Payson!"

But she didn't turn around as she left the diner. It was only midnight, she still had time for a good night.

.:.

Everything was spinning as Payson once again turned to the bar. She had long ago lost count of the number of drinks or pills she had taken. What day was it? What time? Who was she? It didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore.

"Another one of these!" she said, holding up the glass she had just drained. She had also forgotten what she was drinking.

"Maybe you should slow down girl?" the bartender smiled.

"Maybe." Payson smiled. Her back was still annoying her, so she took one more pill from her purse. One pill couldn't hurt her. Across the bar, she saw a few very nice looking guys. She smiled towards them and they all returned her smile.

"Payson?"

The heart in her chest stopped for a moment. Her breath hitched and for a moment, for a fraction of a second, she was transferred two years back in time and was about to apologize. But then she remembered where she was, and who she was.

"Sasha." she smiled and turned to face him. "Old friend! Take a seat!" she said.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not sitting down, and not letting her go with his eyes. He looked exactly like Payson remembered him. The blond hair, a five o'clock shade and the blue eyes. She could see that he was about to reach for her drink, but she was quicker and managed to drink it all before he took the glass from her.

"Wanna dance?" she asked, getting up.

He took a fast grip around her wrist and led her over the dance floor. For a moment Payson thought they would dance, but then she realized he was leading her out of the club. She tried to pull her hand out of his grip, but he was strong. And she was weak.

"Let me go, Sasha! I'll call rape!"

"Yeah? I would love to see you talk with a police officer like that!" he said.

She knew he meant her being both drunk and high. And of course, he was right. He led her to his car and more or less pushed her into the backseat.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he sat down in the drivers' seat and closed the door.

"For a drive. Please don't throw up in my car."

She huffed but didn't promise anything.

"So what's up Pay?" he asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. She would not communicate with her kidnapper. Sasha started the engine and soon they were driving down the streets of LA. She had no idea where they were going, she didn't even recognize which part of the city they were in. How had she gotten there in the first place? She couldn't remember.

The pills and the alcohol made her sleepy. Before she knew what had happened she was asleep.

.:. ..:..

Waking up with a pounding headache was never fun. Especially when the bed you wake up in isn't your own. Payson was about to force herself out of bed when she suddenly recognized the smell of the sheets. She was fully dressed, laying with a blanket over her on top of a made bed. She slowly sat up. He had placed a glass of water next to the bed. No pills though. She patted through her pockets. In the tight front pockets, she found two unmarked pills. She wasn't completely sure what they were, but who cared anyway?

"Put those away!" Sasha suddenly said, coming into the room with fast steps. But Payson was faster, she quickly swallowed the pills and laid down again.

"If you're trying to get me sober you probably should take away my pills first," she said with a smirk and sat up on the bed.

"Breakfast is ready," he said, ignoring what Payson had just said.

"I'm not much for breakfast," Payson said. "I'll take a shower. Then I want you to drive me home!"

She got up from the bed and looked around. From the bedroom, she came into the kitchen, and from the kitchen to a small living room. There were no other doors. She walked back to the bedroom where Sasha was still standing in the spot she had left him. His smile was worrying.

"Where's the bathroom?" she asked, feeling the annoyance grow inside her. Her head was still pounding and all she wanted was to have a drink and go to sleep in her own bed.

"There's an outhouse that way," Sasha said, pointing behind her.

"An outhouse?" Payson didn't believe what she was hearing. "And a shower?"

"The lake is 10 feet away from the house."

Payson shook her head and walked into the kitchen. She found the coffee pot and poured herself a large cup of coffee. This was hell. She had died and gone to hell. "This is kidnapping," she said as Sasha poured himself a cup of coffee next to her. "I'll have you thrown in jail."

"Yeah, sure," Sasha said, sitting down at the table to eat his breakfast. Payson sighed. Looking out through the window trees and water were the only things she could see, except Sasha's car, which was parked on the dirt driveway.

"I've hidden the keys. I'll drive you home when you're clean and sober."

"Can I at least call my parents?" she just wanted to get to her purse, she must have had something stronger in it from last night.

"They already know you're here," Sasha said, sipping his coffee.

She wanted to hit something, or someone, preferably Sasha. What gave him the right to tell her how to live? She finished half the cup of coffee before heading toward the door.

"We're miles away from anything else, if you get lost in the forest you'll probably starve to death, or be eaten by a bear," he called after her.

She was walking barefoot, the grass was wet after what she guessed was rain during the night. She tried the car first. The doors were locked and she couldn't find the keys anywhere on the car. She then walked around the small cottage once, then twice. She assumed he was right. They were probably miles away from any next-door neighbor. She had no desire, whatsoever, to go inside, so instead, she walked over to a small tree dock. She sat down on it and let her feet fall into the cool water.

"Stupid, stupid, British idiot," she cursed under her breath. She didn't need to sober up or become clean. She was no addict. She could stop whenever she wanted. How long would it take for Sasha to believe her? A few days? A week tops? She could do that and then get as far away from the stupid British former coach with a hero complex. But while she did it she would stay as far away from him as possible and she would not be pleasant to be around. She had no obligations to him.

"Payson, do you want breakfast?"

Her inside was rumbling around, but she was pretty sure it wasn't hunger she was feeling. She was nauseous and had a headache, food would not cure that. Instead of telling Sasha no, or even acknowledging that she had heard him, she ignored him, watching her feet slowly moving back and forth in the water. It was cold and smooth, almost hypnotizing.

"Do you wanna go for a run?" he asked, now closer to her.

How could he think she wanted to do anything with him? And go for a run? Was he crazy?

"I know that you're angry, I'll leave you alone for now." She heard him walk back inside the small house. Had her parents talked to him? Asked him to straighten her out? Or was it Becca? Kelly? How had he known where to find her?

She looked out over the still water, the lake wasn't big, she could see the trees on the other side, but it was soothing, watching the insects make marks on the water.

.:.

"Pay, I've made dinner."

A gentle hand on her arm made her jump, sitting up with a bolt. The movement made a wave of pain wash through her body.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Sasha said. "I've made food, you should eat something."

Payson slowly rolled her shoulders and neck, she had fallen asleep on the dock, feet still in the water. She shivered slightly as she stood. Not that she was hungry, but she followed Sasha inside. Wordlessly he handed her a gray hoodie and held out a chair for her. With a sigh, she sat down at the table.

"When did you learn to cook?" Payson asked, she still remembered, with embarrassment, how she'd cooked for him since he'd been eating cereal for dinner. Now he put lasagna on her plate, and he looked very happy with himself.

"I could always cook, I was just lazy."

Across the small kitchen table, he started eating. Only two years had passed, but for her, it felt longer, so the fact that he still looked the same was strange. Picking up the fork she pushed the food around the plate.

"Aren't you hungry?" Sasha asked, already halfway through the food on his plate. "You haven't eaten anything today."

She was most nauseous and felt lightheaded, but she didn't tell him that. Instead, she took a small bite of the lasagna. It was quite good, even if she'd had a certain amount of doubt in his cooking skills. Sasha's face was still neutral as he watched her take another bite, but she could see the smile he was hiding through the light in his eyes.

"I'm done," she said, putting down the fork after the second small bite. His face fell and she felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

"But you..."

Before he could finish she left the table and headed into the living room. It wasn't a big room, but it held a sofa and a table placed in the middle of the room. Along the far wall stood two bookshelves filled with books. In front of the window was a small desk and chair. On the desk, she spotted a laptop. Before Sasha could follow her into the room she walked over to the laptop and opened it. It took a moment for it to load, and just when she thought it was ready to use a login window appeared. She sighed and sat down at the desk. What could Sasha have as a password? She tried 123, ABC, gymnastics, Sasha, and every possible word she could connect to him.

"You'll never get it," he suddenly said from the door, making her jump. Why was she so jumpy?

"I just want to check my email," she said. She hadn't even had a plan when she sat down, maybe she would have sent a message to the police and say she had been kidnapped. They would have found her quickly.

"I don't have Internet out here," he said, closing the lid on the laptop as he spoke. Of course, he didn't have the Internet.

"Then why do you have a laptop?"

He didn't answer. She sighed again. "What do you do for fun out here?" She looked around the room. No TV, no stereo, no minibar. The last one she hadn't even bothered to hope for.

"I fish or read books, maybe watch a movie on the laptop."

"You sound like a 90-year-old man, those things aren't fun."

He sat down on the sofa, watching her. "Two years ago you would have thought so," he said.

Even though he wasn't wrong she shook her head. "I wasn't very fun two years ago," she said.

"I liked that version of you better..." He fell silent abruptly as he forced himself not to continue. It wasn't anything she would ever confess to, but his word stung.

"Well, I hate that version of me so it doesn't really matter what you think."

His eyes were still on her. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I'm going to bed," Sasha said from the doorway to the living room. Payson was still sitting at the desk, staring out of the window.

"Where do I sleep?" Payson asked, turning to look at him. The house wasn't that big and she was sure there wasn't a guest bedroom.

"You can take the couch," he said. "There's linen in the closet in the kitchen."

Payson groaned but remained seated when he disappeared into the bedroom. Couldn't he have given her the bed at least? It wasn't like she was there voluntarily.

Outside it was getting dark. Watching the sunset over the lake she toyed with the idea of looking for the car keys, or a cell phone. She knew it would be a fruitless task, Sasha wasn't stupid after all, but the thought was still entertaining. She got up from the chair with a sigh. Maybe she could sleep away the time she was forced to spend in captivity.

In the closet, Sasha had pointed out she found covers and pillows that she spread out on the couch. Not bothering to change out of Sasha's big and soft hoodie she crawled under the covers. The house was so silent, no surrounding traffic, no music from the neighbors. All she could hear was her own heartbeat.


	2. Chapter 2

It was still dark outside when Sasha woke up. For a moment he let the calm wash over him. He loved the small cottage in the Californian forests. He spent weeks there every summer, just enjoying the calm on his own. But a soft sound from the living room reminded him that he wasn't alone. With a sinking heart, he sat up and pulled on a t-shirt. From the living room, he heard soft but shallow breathing. Walking closer he heard Payson whine in her sleep. He wondered if she was dreaming.

Even through the darkness, he could make out the thin frame of her body. When he saw her, at that club in LA, he could barely recognize her. He had never seen her looking so frail. Not even at the hospital after the accident or in the back brace after the surgeries. Those memories of her had nothing on what he saw when he watched her sleep on his couch.

"Please," she mumbled in her sleep.

Stepping closer he could see the sweat on her forehead. It was like he had been afraid of, she was going into withdrawal, soon the abstinence from alcohol and whatever pills she used to take would hit her in full force.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, gently swiping her hair away from her wet forehead and cheeks. Had she been crying? "I'm sorry," he repeated.

He let her sleep and walked back into the kitchen. From the broken oven, the one in the old firewood oven, he pulled out his cell phone. After making sure Payson was still asleep he walked out and closed the door behind himself. He looked through the contact list and found Kim Keeler's number.

"Hello?" she answered, sounding worried.

"Hi, it's Sasha," he said. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Don't worry about it," Kim said. "How is she?"

He took a deep breath and slowly let out the air again, he wasn't sure what to say. "I don't know," he said honestly. "She's asleep now. She was angry yesterday though."

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Kim asked. Sasha could hear the hesitation in her voice. It was the same uncertainty he had heard when he first called and told them Payson was with him.

"I can see the cold sweat, her hands have been shaking since she woke up yesterday..."

"You're saying she's actually addicted?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, it's withdrawal," he said. It felt unreal. This was Payson they were talking about. Sweet, nice, levelheaded Payson. "I'm... I don't know if it'll be bad, but if it is I'll take her to the hospital."

On the other end, he could hear Kim trying to keep the tears away. "I have to go. I'll call later, okay?"

He was quick to say goodbye, he really didn't want Payson to see that he had a phone, it would just make her determined to find it. Instead of calling Payson's sister, he sent a text.  _ You're right. I'm trying to help though. _

Inside Payson was still sleeping, her breathing was uneven and shallow, he could hear it from the kitchen when he hid the phone again. It was scary to hear, her frail body had to be in overdrive. He made two cups of tea and walked back into the living room. Outside the sun had appeared over the trees and it filled the room with light. He sat down in the chair next to the sofa.

"Payson?" He whispered. "Payson? I've made tea."

"Sasha?" Even her voice was different since last he saw her. "What are you doing here?"

He realized she was still somewhere between dream and being awake. He said her name again, putting a hand on her shoulder.

When she flew up, moving as far away on the couch as she could, he realized she was awake again. The way she looked at him, the utterly betrayed look her eyes had, hurt more than if someone would have stabbed him in the chest.

"Typical." She said, voice not at all as even as he guessed she aimed for. "I hoped it was a bad dream."

Sasha wanted to say he agreed, but instead, he held out one of the cups of tea. She took it without a fuss. During the previous day, she had barely eaten anything, which worried him. The way her body looked, she needed the energy.

"I was thinking of doing some fishing today, do you wanna come?" He asked, watching her as she took a sip from the hot liquid. "We could take the boat out on the lake?" He watched as she rolled her eyes.

"No thanks," she said. "Fishing isn't really how I define a fun day."

She had a slight tremor in her voice when she spoke, and she constantly cleared her throat. When she reached to put the mug down on the table he saw that her hands were shaking.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, drinking from his own tea.

"Bored and like I've been kidnapped. I want you to drive me home, now!" Her voice rose at the end of the sentence.

"I wish I could," he said. And he did, he really wished he didn't have to more or less kidnap his old gymnast to get her clean and sober. But when Becca had called, crying, asking for help... What else could he do?

He didn't really know what had happened, but it had something to do with Becca worrying for a long time and then Kelly, who Becca now trained with, ran into Payson in LA. He guessed that anyone seeing Payson now would react with calling her sister to ask what was wrong.

Maybe he should have said no, told Becca to get her sister admitted to rehab. But he had a soft spot for the Keeler sisters, and he'd not even thought about it for more than two seconds when he promised Becca he would help. He knew he had a white knight complex, but this was Payson. Of course, he had to help her.

"I'll make breakfast," he said and got up. Payson remained sitting on the sofa, looking out through the window.

In the kitchen, Sasha prepared a big, but healthy breakfast. Fruit, an omelet, whole wheat bread, fresh orange juice. Lastly, he started the coffee maker.

"Pay, breakfast is ready," he said, poking his head back into the living room. It was almost scary to see that she hadn't moved from her spot. How long could she sit in one place, staring straight ahead? "Payson?"

Payson shook her head lightly like she was trying to chase away thoughts or daydreams, before slowly standing up. Payson Keeler, who had been the best gymnast in the world only two years ago, looked slightly unsteady on her feet as she walked into the kitchen. She sat down at the table while Sasha poured the fresh coffee into two mugs. When he sat down across the table she didn't even look up at him.

While he started eating, she just sat there, looking down at the coffee. "Payson, you have to eat," he said, voice low as he was actually begging her. And he was, God, he wished he could say something that she would listen to. "Do you want a sandwich?"

She shrugged, but he made her a sandwich with ham and cheese and placed it in front of her on the table. "Eat," he said. The please he only added in his head.

He watched her, out of the corner of his eyes, pick the sandwich up and take a small bite. She was chewing forever before swallowing. He almost held his breath when she drank some juice before taking another bite. She didn't have time to swallow this time though. Payson flew up, hand over her mouth. She looked around the room before running to the front door and out of the small cottage. As soon as he realized what was going on he followed. The blond thin figure was leaning against a tree at the other end of the garden. Walking closer he saw that she was still dry heaving. He put a hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing her back. Neither of them said anything and as soon as Payson's breathing was calming Sasha pulled her into his arms. He was afraid that she would push him away, but she didn't. She rested her head against his chest and he could see tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Not knowing what to say he just stood there, holding her close.

"Please just drive me home." Her whisper broke the silence that had been building between them.

"I can't Pay, not yet," he whispered back, gently stroking her back while he fought the lump in his throat.

He could feel, more than see or hear, that she was gathering her strength to push him away and be angry again. He counted slowly as they breathed in sync. One... Two... Three... Four... In... Out...

"I'll never forgive you for this," she whispered and pushed him away.

He focused on counting. One... Two... In... Out... Three ... Four... In... Out... In... Out... Twenty...

He watched her go inside. There was no shouting, no fighting. He just watched her disappear inside the cottage. I'll never forgive you for this... Never forgive... The words echoed inside him. The knife that had been stabbing him in the chest the last two days was now twisting in his heart.

She's sick. It's withdrawal. It isn't Payson speaking, he told himself.

Thirty-four... In... Out... In... Out...

.

Sasha didn't go inside until the sun was setting. He spent the day in the small boat, floating just outside the small dock. When he stepped inside the cottage was dark and silent. He knew Payson couldn't have gone out, he'd been able to see the front door from his spot on the water. Walking through the kitchen he could hear her soft snoring from the living room. He wondered if she'd been on the couch all day, he couldn't spot one thing out of order in the kitchen, so he guessed she hadn't eaten.

As if his stomach could read his mind it grumbled. He hasn't eaten either. Even if it was only 7.30 he was too tired to cook, so he pulled out his go-to dinner: cereal and milk. While he set the table, he could hear Payson waking up in the living room. He set the table for her as well, but instead of calling her for dinner he just poured the milk over his own cereal and sat down. He just didn't know what to say to her, how to beg so that she would listen and eat something.

In the end, he didn't need to call her. When he was halfway through his own dinner he could hear her walk through the living room and into the kitchen. Not wanting to scare her away, as if she was a wild animal, he didn't look up or say anything, he just continued eating. Payson pulled out the chair across the table and sat down. When he took a second serving she actually started eating. It felt like a small victory, as he heard her swallow spoonful after spoonful. The 'I'll never forgive you for this' continued echoing through his head, though.

.:.

On the third morning, Sasha was woken by soft sobs. The sun was on its way up and even though he had slept probably eight hours, he was still very tired when he got up. In the living room, Payson was lying on the sofa, curled up to a ball.

"What's wrong Payson?" He asked, sitting down on the same chair as the morning before. "Payson?"

"My back," she had to whisper the words between sobs. "My back hurts."

His heart started to beat faster. Her forehead was wet in a cold sweat and her whole body was shaking. "Let me see," he said, getting on his knees on the floor next to the sofa.

"Don't touch!" She almost screamed just as his hand got close to her back. "It'll hurt more! Please!"

"Payson, did you do anything to cause the pain? Did you move or twist? When did it happen?"

"I don't know," she sobbed. "Please just give me something."

"Something?" he asked, feeling cold chills down his back.

"Something for the pain, pills! Painkillers! Something!"

At that moment he could have crawled up in a ball on the floor, crying. He knew that he was in over his head, but what should he do? Take her to a rehab facility? To the hospital? She wasn't even old enough to drink yet!

Sasha couldn't do anything, he just sat next to her and watched her cry.

"Payson, Payson listen to me," he said. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"Yes," she cried. "I need something for the pain!"

He took her hands between his, her small hands were shaking like leaves. "I'll tell them about the pills and the alcohol Payson," he said. He didn't want to threaten her he just wanted her to know what would await at the hospital. "They will take you to rehab."

She didn't say anything so he was on his way to stand to go get the phone, but she wouldn't let go of his hands. "Pay, I'll call the hospital, okay?"

"Don't," she whispered between sobs. "Please, don't."

The broken voice of his former gymnast broke Sasha's heart. "Are you sure?" He asked and squeezed her hands.

Her sobs slowly calmed down and were replaced by silent crying.

"Tell me what to do Payson," he whispered, moving one hand so he could gently push her hair out of her face. "Pay?"

"Don't give in, okay?" She whispered.

"Never," he wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

It gave him new energy, knowing that Payson seemed to realize that she had a problem. But it only lasted a couple of hours until she once again demanded to be driven back home. It was a real headache, always taking one step forward and two backward.

During dinner Sasha and Payson alternated between staring at each other and staring at the food, neither of them ate much.

It was clear that Payson was in pain, not only withdrawal but in actual physical pain from her back. It suddenly became easy to understand how Payson had become addicted to painkillers; the frail girl took barely a step without a grimace on her face. So when the evening, finally, came around Sasha offered the bed to Payson. He took his covers and pillows and laid down on the sofa. It wasn't the most comfortable sleeping surface and suddenly he felt bad for forcing Payson to sleep on it. With thoughts of guilt and sadness spinning around his head he didn't manage to fall asleep until the sun was on it's way up again.

.:.

The following morning Sasha woke up feeling exhausted. He couldn't have slept for long. After a moment or two, he realized he hadn't woken by himself, a sound from the kitchen had woken him. He got up from the sofa slowly, his joints aching with the movements. When he got to the doorway to the kitchen he saw what had woken him; Payson was going through the cupboards, one after another, and she didn't even try to be silent.

"Looking for something?" He asked.

She didn't flinch at the sound of his voice, she didn't turn around and she didn't stop going through the open cupboard. "Give me the car keys!" she said, slamming one door closed to open the next.

"Calm down Payson," he said, not taking his eyes from her. She was panicking. Was it the withdrawal? He studied her frantic searching, she probably didn't even see what was in the cupboards she searched through, she just opened and closed a lot of doors.

"This is kidnapping, Sasha!"

She wasn't wrong. "I'm trying to help you." He said.

"I don't want or need your help!" She screamed and turned to look at him. The silence that followed was deafening. Payson's eyes were dark and her lips pressed together in a thin line. The anger was radiating from her.

"Pay, you..." He started, but she didn't let him finish.

"Give me the car keys or I start walking." It wasn't an empty threat, he could see it on her.

Sasha didn't know what to do, should he lock her into the cottage? Let her start walking toward the city? She was staring at him, the usual warmth and softness to her eyes were long gone, he barely recognized her.

"Give me the car keys." She repeated.

He didn't know what else to do, so he walked over to the old oven and pulled out the key from its hidden spot. Holding out the key to the blonde former gymnast his chest hurt, actually hurt. "Drive carefully." He whispered, almost wishing he was having a heart attack.

"I'll never forgive you for this," Payson said and snatched the key from his hand. She turned on her heel and walked outside. Not even a minute later he could hear the engine of his car.

From the kitchen window, he saw the car turn around and drive down the dirt road. Silence followed. The heavy silence was only broken by the beating of his heart.

When he managed to move again he walked back to the oven and pulled his cell phone out. Starting it he discovered a new message from Becca. She told him to hang in there and thanked him for helping. He opened a new message.

_ She left. I'm sorry. _


	3. Chapter 3

Harsh light was what woke Payson up. The room was warm and smelled of sweat and stale beer. She sat up slowly and pushed her hair out of her face. The room was foreign to her and she had no idea how she had gotten there or who she had been with the previous night. On the bed next to her was a woman with red hair sleeping. She didn't recognize her. Had she met her at the club? She carefully crawled out of the bed and found her clothes in a corner of the room. After getting dressed she walked out the door without looking back. The room was a bedroom in a small house and she quickly and quietly located the front door. It was easy to slip out without waking the girl.

For a moment, as she stepped outside, Payson had no idea where she was, but as she started to walk away from the small house she recognized the area. She wasn't too far from her own apartment and she could easily walk there.

The heels she had on weren't the most comfortable to wear, and maybe she looked like a prostitute in her short dress, but Payson didn't care. She had no energy in her and all she could think about was popping a pill and taking a hot bath before going back to bed.

It took her less than fifteen minutes to reach her apartment building. As soon as she was inside the doors she kicked off the heels and carried them up to her fifth-floor apartment. It was probably more luck than skill that she still had her keys in the purse, but she more or less stumbled inside.

"You look like shit."

Payson looked up at the sound of her sister's voice. Becca was sitting in the living room sofa, a cup between her hands and a blanket over her shoulders.

"Had a late night," Payson said, grabbing a hair tie from the table and pulled her hair up in a bun. "What are you doing here?"

"Sasha texted," she said. "Told me you left."

"You told him to kidnap me?" Payson felt the anger grow inside her with an almost frightening intensity. She didn't want to do this now, she just wanted to take something for the pain and sleep. "You had no right to do that!"

"I wanted to help," Becca said.

Payson didn't let her sister continue. "I don't need help!" She screamed.

Becca put the cup down and stood. "You're an addict, Payson! Of course, you need help!"

"I'm not an addict! I like to party, is that a crime?"

"So your hands are shaking because you like to party? You're thinking about painkillers and alcohol because you like to party?" Becca sounded so angry, her voice dripping with venom. "If you continue like this you're going to die, Payson."

It felt like a punch to the stomach and she had to focus to not clench her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. "I don't need to prove anything to you," she said, turning to walk into her bedroom.

"Payson!"

"You've done your sisterly duty, you can leave now," Payson said, not even looking at her sister before closing the bedroom door behind her.

The last of the energy had left Payson's body. She pulled the dress off and washed her face. In front of the mirror, she studied her face. The dark circles under her eyes, the pale skin, and dry lips. She barely recognized herself. The pain under her skin was growing stronger with every breath. Resisting the urge of breaking the mirror Payson opened the cupboard and pulled out the bottle with her prescribed painkillers. It was empty. After she threw the bottle across the room she looked through the rest of the bathroom. It wasn't the only bottle that had been emptied. Payson was certain she hadn't taken the last pill, she'd had plenty left. She walked out of the bathroom and her bedroom, out to the living room where Becca was standing looking out through the window.

"Where are my meds?" she asked. The pain made her head pound and hands shake even more violently.

"You mean your pills?" Becca asked. Her younger sister turned around and faced her. "Your drugs?"

"It's for my back," Payson said. "The doctor prescribed it."

"Don't you realize that if you need pills at nine in the morning, that you're an addict? The pain isn't physical Pay, and even if it is, you can handle pain!"

"You don't know anything about my pain!" Payson roared. She was tired of people telling her how to feel. She was done doing as she was told. Payson ignored her sister and walked into her room again. There had to be something there. She looked through all her purses, every small compartment of it. In her wardrobe she pulled out every piece of clothes she owned, she shook them and looked through all the pockets. When nothing turned up, she looked amongst the shoes and at the bottom of the piles of her clothes.

"I've thrown it all away," Becca said from the doorway.

Payson sat down on the bed, she was feeling a thin layer of sweat over her forehead, but at the same time, she was freezing. "Fine, I don't need it anyway. You can go now."

Becca left the bedroom, but Payson never heard the front door open and close, so she was pretty sure her sister hadn't actually left the apartment. On the bedside table stood an unopened bottle of water and Payson reached for it. It was stale and warm, but Payson still downed it all. The water only momentarily calmed her racing heart though. She paced her bedroom a few times before she pulled off the bra and panties she was wearing and stepped into the shower.

The water was hot, too hot, it left red marks on her skin, but Payson couldn't feel it. Her skin was numb, all she could feel was the tingling feeling from under her skin, from where the blood flowed through her body. It felt like paths of ants through her body and however much she scrubbed the feeling wouldn't disappear.

The time disappeared while Payson stood under the spray of water. It was like she had been hypnotized and she wasn't pulled out of it until she heard her sister pound on the door. When she turned the shower off, she noticed that the water had turned cold. Maybe it wasn't so strange that she was shaking then.

"What are you doing?" Becca asked when Payson stepped out of the bathroom. The younger Keeler was sitting on the bed, watching with worrying eyes.

"I s-showered," she said, pulling the towel tighter around her shaking body.

Becca got up from the bed and moved closer, still the same worry in her eyes. "God, you're freezing Pay!" Becca pulled another towel from the shelf and draped it around her sister and then took a smaller one over the wet hair. Payson found herself being led to the bed where she sat down and got a blanket over her legs before Becca started to dry her cold and wet hair.

Payson remained seated on the bed, staring about a small mark on the wall above the dresser. Her sister talked with a low voice as she dried Payson's hair with a towel, but Payson couldn't focus enough to make out the words. Instead, she watched the small hole, where a nail must have pinned something to the wall before Payson moved into the apartment. It was such a small mark, Payson had never noticed it before, but now she couldn't look away from it.

"Here, Pay, put this on," Becca said, holding out a hoodie.

Payson took the hoodie, which was an old purple hoodie, soft to the touch. She held it, looked at it.

"Put it on Pay," Becca said again.

It was like her body wouldn't listen to her. The fingers were frozen in place, her arms ached and she couldn't perform the easiest task. After a minute or two of looking down on the hoodie in her hands, her sister helped her get dressed.

"Have you eaten anything?" Becca asked, low voice.

Payson felt her sister starting to brush her hair. It was a rhythmical movement, making her body relax slightly with every passing minute. When her sister was finished with the hair, Payson could barely keep her eyes open any more.

"Rest," Becca said, patting the braid now hanging over her shoulder. "I'll make us something to eat."

Doing as told Payson lay down on the bed and let her sister spread a blanket over her. Before the bedroom door was closed, Payson felt herself drift off. The darkness was welcomed.

.

It was dark and Payson couldn't move. She could hear scratching, the sound of small claws on the cement floor. The air was thick and sharp and it made it difficult to breathe. Her legs and arms felt heavy, so heavy she couldn't even move a finger. The claws were coming closer, closer to her body. Every little sound, every little scratch, made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Then she felt it. Pins and needles. The pain of tiny claws, so many claws, creeping up her legs. Like a needle being jabbed into her leg, through the skin and muscles and right into the bone. She wanted to scream, but there was no air in her lungs, no way for her to make a sound.

The pain continued, it crept further and further up the legs, passing the knee with thousands and thousands of extra jabs and stabs. Then suddenly, there were hands, or something grabbing her. Pulling in her skin. Maybe it was hooked, fastened through her skin, dragging it off the rest of her body. Incredible pain was all she could feel, and small puffs the only thing coming past her lips.

"Pay! Pay!"

The sound of her sister's voice filtered through the darkness and Payson woke with a bolt. The air cleared, but the pain in her body remained.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

Payson sat up, brushing the braid over her shoulder. "It was nothing," she said, but her voice was hoarse like she had screamed and screamed out her pain. She could smell food, but instead of feeling hungry, she felt her stomach turn. For a moment she thought she would have to make a dash for the toilet, but then it calmed down as she took another few breaths. The pain, however, the feeling of someone stabbing her with pins and needles, continued. She was about to beg her sister for pills, but before she had a chance to open her mouth Becca held out an envelope for her.

"A letter came for you," Becca said. When Payson took the letter out of her sister's hand she recognized Sasha's handwriting right away. Becca rose from the bed. "The food's ready, but take your time."

The last things Payson had said to Sasha weren't exactly nice. She still wasn't sure he deserved nice words. When she thought about him her blood started to boil again. The envelope was heavy, and it was more out of curiosity than out of guilt she opened it. She picked up the letter first.

_ Dear Payson _

_ I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I couldn't help you. I did what I thought was best and I hope that you can see that sometime in the future. When your sister called and asked for help I couldn't just turn her away, I couldn't turn you away. _

_ You don't think you have a problem, I expected that, but I hoped you would see it when you were forced to stay off the meds. It wasn't the best way to do it, but it was all I could do. I hope you'll forgive me someday. _

_ You have so many people around you that want to help Payson. People that want nothing but your best. Even if you think they're overreacting now, you recognize that they only want you well? Right? _

_ I drank too much. After my career, after blowing my knee out; I drank too much. I partied too much and it could have ended badly. I wasn't in pain though, well not physical at least, so I never tried pills. I think that if I had, it would have soothed my anxiety and I would have been where you are now. There's no shame in it, I understand it all too well. _

_ Payson, I just want to tell you that I'm so proud of everything you've accomplished, and I understand the rest. Your life isn't over because you reached your goal. There are new goals to set and reach for. School, a job, coaching. I don't know what you want to do, but knowing you I'm sure you can do it all. _

_ Please, Payson, let someone help you. _

_ Love, _

_ -Sasha _

_ P.S Tag, you're it. _

Payson put the letter down on the bed and picked up the still heavy envelope. She held it upside down and a gold medal with a red band fell out, landing on the half-folded letter. Tag, you're it.

The metal was cold under her fingers as she traced its edges. The inscription felt so familiar to trace, how many times had she done it before? During the weeks leading up to the Olympics. Just holding it, twisting the red band around her fingers she could almost feel the same excitement and nerves she had back then. Almost. She barely felt emotions anymore.

"Payson?" Becca walked into the room slowly, like she was afraid to scare a wild animal. "I looked up a rehab place, Pay." Becca sat down on the bed, not letting her eyes leave Payson. "I called and you can come anytime you feel ready."

Rehab. Did she need rehab? Maybe she liked her meds a little too much, maybe she was a little bit addicted to them, but surely not enough to need rehab? She wasn't a real addict.

"Mom and Dad called," Becca said. Payson was too afraid to ask what they wanted, but it seemed Becca didn't need any encouragement to keep talking. "They told me to tell you that they love you and they're flying down to see you as soon as you're allowed visitors."

Payson felt her eyes water, it sounded like a prison. She couldn't just...Then she thought about Sasha and the cabin. She hasn't managed three days before she'd made him let her leave. The things she'd said…

Next to her Becca took her hand. "I'll go with you Pay," she said.

For the first time, Payson turned to really look at her sister. Her baby sister. Her baby sister with dark circles under her eyes, eyes full of worry. She could see her mother in those eyes as well. She imagined them at home, her mother and father that had already done everything for her, wanted to come down and see her in rehab.

"We have to go now," Payson heard herself say.

Becca was quick to get on her feet and with a gentle pull Payson was also standing up. Payson watched her sister throw together some of Payson's things in an overnight bag. Before she had a chance to think Becca had her hand in her's again. The apartment still smelled like food when they walked, hand in hand, down to Becca's rental car.


	4. Chapter 4

The three-hour drive on the small road seemed longer than she had expected it to be. Even though she had traveled the road twice before, she couldn't remember it and had to depend on the GPS system in the car. She had never exactly tried to remember the road, or the cabin, or why she had been there. That was times better forgotten. She had stormed out, she remembered that. And the hurt looks on his face; the devastation and frustration.

Payson parked the car and turned the engine off but remained seated behind the wheel. She was so nervous her hands were shaking and heart beating twice as hard as it normally did.

"Come on Pay," she mumbled to herself, she had never avoided things she was scared of before. Or, that was a lie. The last two years had been nothing but her avoiding real life. But before that, after that. She didn't avoid things anymore.

The curtains in one of the windows, she couldn't remember which room, moved and she could see the outline of a head. He must have recognized her. Nothing happened for a while and all Payson wanted to do was to start the engine and turn the car around and leave. It was a testimony to her newfound strength that she didn't. When her hand reached for the car door handle the door to the cottage opened.

More than a year had passed, but he still looked the same. The hair short, a five o'clock shadow and she could see his blue eyes from the car. She watched as he walked down the steps of the porch and sat down on the last. For a moment she had thought he would come to the car, confronting her. When he didn't she relaxed a bit. He didn't really look at her. She wondered if he was angry at her or if he had thought about her during the last year. A year ago she had been so angry with him, she had been sure she would never forgive him. It took time, but she had realized how good of a friend he had really been. She had been an addict and he had tried to help her.

For a moment their eyes locked and Payson wanted to cry. Even from the distance, she saw that he wasn't angry. Maybe worried, or curious, but he wasn't angry.

She took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. The air was fresh but still warm. She probably didn't need the college shirt she was wearing, but she didn't bother taking it off. Instead, she walked over to the porch.

"Hi." She said.

"Hi." He repeated and moved so she could sit down next to him.

Not knowing where to start, or really how to say what she wanted, she went with the first words that popped up. "I got your letter." She said, watching the calm lake in front of the cottage. "The one you sent a year ago." She clarified. "With your medal."

"Becca told me." He said with a low voice. The  _ you never replied _ was implied.

Payson had spent 32 days at the rehab clinic. It was a year ago, almost to the day, since she left. It was only the first few days that had been lost in a daze of withdrawal, the rest she remembered clearly. Every day had been painful in one way or another. She thought about how many times she had tried to answer his letter. Every day, at least five or six times, had she sat down on the bed, pen, and paper in front of her. Sometimes she had gotten half-through a letter, but mostly she had only stared at the blank page. It always ended with her not having anything to send him.

"I'm sorry." She said, playing with the hem of her shirt. It had a loose thread she kept spinning around her finger. "I tried writing to you, but…" she shook her head. She had no idea how to explain to him how sorry she was, how grateful she was, how ashamed she was. It had taken her a long time to realize all her feelings, to let herself feel them again.

"Don't apologize, Pay." He said, looking at her. "You have nothing to apologize for." He added, a soft smile on his lips.

"But I do." She said. "And I want to, please listen to me?" She needed to get the words out. She needed to apologize, to ask for forgiveness. The things she had said and done…

A step in recovery is to apologize and explain to the people one had hurt, but only if it didn't hurt them more by doing so. Maybe Sasha didn't want to hear what she had to say, maybe it would hurt him more to drag it all up again. Maybe he had long since forgotten about her. It hurt to think about it, and it hurt, even more, to realize that she was selfish enough to not care. She should just nod and smile and get back into her rental, but she couldn't. She was selfish enough that she needed him to hear her.

"I… I don't know where to start." She said.

"How are you doing?" he asked, voice low and even. The same voice that had kept her calm through countless competitions.

"I'm good." She said. She added  _ most days _ silently in her head. "Clean and sober for a year." She said. As to prove her words she pulled out the small plastic coin with the number 1 on it and gave it to him. She watched him twist it in his hands. "I just wanted to say thank you, and that I'm sorry. For everything I said when you tried to help…" She bit her lip and tried to sort through her thoughts before she continued. "I hadn't realized what had happened… I'm still not sure how or when… I turned into an addict." The words still hurt to say. She had actually been a drug addict. Prescribed medication.

"I'm so proud of you," Sasha said, handing her back the chip and looking her in the eyes. "I forgive you for everything you hold yourself accountable for. I understand that it was the drugs talking. And you don't have to thank me for anything."

It was everything she hadn't even dared to dream he would say. She certainly hadn't thought he would forgive her.

"Don't cry Pay," he whispered and suddenly he was wiping her tears away.

She hadn't even realized she was crying. When had she last cried? Had she cried since she had left rehab? In rehab? She probably had but she couldn't remember. It felt foreign, the way tears rolled down her cheeks, the way the pain in her chest eased.

"Everything is okay." He whispered and pulled her into a hug. "Everything is fine now, Pay."

Letting herself relax into the warmth of the hug she felt a sob rip through her body. Another one followed. On their own accord, her arms found their way around Sasha and she felt them grab at his t-shirt. It felt like she would fall any second. Fall into insanity. Like she was always on the edge of falling back into the darkness. She was so afraid of falling.

"Shh, it's okay." He continued to whisper. "I've got you."


End file.
